Early this summer, I watched my wedding ring fly off my finger in slow motion. You guys, I’ve lost so much in this last year…so much. Losing my ring felt terrible and somehow…appropriate.

Since I knew when and where it fell off, we told ourselves we would find it. We spent hours scouring the grassy fringe of the garden where it had to be hiding. We raked it. We scanned it with a flashlight at night, straining to catch a glint of silver… nothing. As time went by I lost hope of ever seeing it again.

Yesterday, one of my son’s friends came out to the farm with his metal detector. Two of our boys and five of their friends, ranging from 6 to 14, combed the whole area and dug several places…still nothing.

No one promised these boys any kind of reward. None of the seven gave up at any point in the search. The teamwork was striking. No adult told them what to do or how,yet their eyes were riveted to the ground. They were determined to find that ring.

I went into it wondering if we were too late, uneasy about the trouble everyone was going to for me. By the third false positive, my mind was crafting the “You did the best you could, boys” speech. You know, for that moment when they’d have to admit it was lost and give up.

And then, there it was, buried just below the surface of the soil. It was strangely brilliant after spending months shrouded in dirt.

Seeing those boys high five and fist bump and exult over my lost (and found!) ring is one of the holiest things I’ve ever seen.

Here’s what they taught me:

• We need equipping. Effort wasn’t enough. Our five senses weren’t equal to the task. We needed a tool, and someone who knew how to use it. The metal detector worked, because it was tuned to the frequency of the treasure we were seeking.

• We need a team. Even with the metal detector, it would’ve taken me hours to find it alone, if I found it at all. Having more eyes and hands helped, but having someone else believe my treasure was worth the trouble was crucial.

• Treasure-hunting is in our DNA. At one point, one of the younger boys asked why we were searching for the ring. I said weakly, “Because it’s precious to me.” One of the older boys said, “Because her ring is important to ALL of us.” The search was worth more than any fun they could have had at that moment. In an important way, the treasure was theirs.

• My heart was tuned to disappointment, not treasure. We tend to find what we’re looking for. But spiritual treasure can be hard to recognize. It rarely takes the form we’d expect. If we aren’t attuned, we can miss it. Which leaves me wondering, what other treasure in my life am I missing?

But why am I telling you this?

Because you were born to uncover treasure. If you’re part of God’s family, it’s your birthright. Even if you’re afraid it’s too late, no one can separate you from your treasure.

Because you’re not alone. This is all of us. This is our work. We are on our hand and knees, combing through the weeds, scrapping at the dirt.

Because your treasure is important to ALL of us. We all feel the ache of what’s been lost, and we want to remind you that it’s worth it to us.

You’re worth it to us.

What treasures are hidden just below the surface in your life?

What has been lost that God wants to restore?